But the good news is the pirate ship is sailing directly away from the island. It’s mostly the Rock Candy’s aft that’s visible. And there’s really no reason for any of them to be hanging out there. Even though they haven’t closed the toy hauler up.
“You drive this thing. I’ll watch them,” Easton shouts against the wind and the waves. I take one last glance. He’s right. With the right course, I might keep them from seeing us.
We’re about thirty feet from clearing the bluff when Easton stiffens behind me.
“What?” I glance back at him.
“Just go and keep your head fucking down. Go. Go! Go!”
I do that and hunch over the steering bars. Easton leans into me, flattening himself. There’s no need to ask what he saw. I’m sure it involves a trigger. But leaning like we are gives a better edge against the wind shear, and I might be imagining it, but it feels as if we thrust forward.
I push on the throttle even more, and we clear the bluff. The beach here on this side is curved from the current coming off thebluff. If we stay in the water longer, shooting over the widest part of the beach, the run to the jungle will be significantly shorter. And that’s what I aim for.
Rockwell is mercifully quiet, pressing into me. With the breaker waves and the increased speed, we’re jumping all around, hitting the wells of the waves fucking hard. But I’m able to take us right up onto the beach.
I let the WaveRunner hit the shore and skid up the sand that the tidal action has pressed and condensed. I don’t have to tell Rockwell to jump or run. I turn the machine off at the same time I’m rolling off it. I stumble for a few steps before I get my footing. I’m thundering for the jungle when I hear the shot.
Chapter 4
Cannon
Easton
Fucking hell. I’m right beside Green when the shot rips through my arm. I half step and stagger.
Calvin reaches for me and pulls me along. I shake off his grip.
“I’m good. Go, go.” Reflex has my good hand holding the wet bloody mess of a bicep.
Another shot, and then another two rounds fire at our feet. The bullets shoot sand up into the air. A few more steps and we’re above the tide line. The sand is loose, and each step is a slog.
“Keep your head down. We’re almost to the tree line.”
I’m pushing my legs, willing them to move. My primitive brain has taken over. I’m going. Left, right, left. More bullets spray across the sand and dry seaweed behind us.
“Fuck.”
I glance at Green. Bile rises up my throat.
“Keep going.”
I’m pulling through the underbrush, dry fronds scratching and tearing at my skin as I dive in. Next to me, Calvin’s breaking his own path. The shooting on the beach stops. Or it’s hidden by the sound of the waves and the thudding of my heart in my ears.
There’s two large trees. Not as big as our map tree, but big. I round one and wait for Green. He leans against it, looking down at his foot.
“Did you get hit?” I ask.
“Just a nick on the side of my heel. I’ve got scratches from the undergrowth that are worse. Your arm?”
“I’ll look at it later. You ready? I’ll let you take the lead.” I haven’t been over here. Not that Calvin has been here much either. Zane and Dante did most of the exploring. But Green’s at least been on this side of the island, when he found the pomelos.
“There’s a stream up ahead. We can follow it back to the mountain and head up it and get a view of this side. Maybe.” There’s a bluff in the way. It’s the reason we didn’t see the Rock Candy until we went into the cave. “They’re not going to come onto the beach. If they’ve got momentum with the Rock Candy attached to their boat with the shitty engines, they’re not going to stop. Not if they’re smart.”
The Rock Candy’s a lot bigger than their boat. It could easily jackknife and bash into the side of their ship if they stop. Them launching a tender or a rowboat would be a mistake. But that doesn’t mean they won’t do it. I want out of here and as fast as we can get.
He nods at me, and I’m after him. The jungle smacks us around. Branches scrape and claw at our sides. I’m protecting my right arm by using my left one to cut through the brush like a sideways offensive lineman. And fuck me, I’m just trusting that Green is using that internal hunting and tracking compass he’s got implanted in his brain. Because I’ve got no damn idea where we are.
On reflex, my left hand comes off my right bicep to catch a branch about to smack me in the face, and I grunt from the pain of releasing the hole in my arm.
